


One-Shot Collection: Falk and Laurie

by ArtemisMoonsong



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Courtship, Flirting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisMoonsong/pseuds/ArtemisMoonsong
Relationships: Falk Firebeard/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

I decided it's finally time to give these two their own collection, so here it is :) Find Laurie's full story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534659/chapters/56447650


	2. In These Degrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage..." — _As You Like It_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place roughly sometime after Chapter 24 and before Chapter 26.

“Good morning…!”

I looked up from the book I’d been reading, startled—I’d been so engrossed in the narrative that I hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said my lover, smiling down at me.

I was currently sitting under a rather large beech tree, my knees curled up so as to cradle the book as I read. I hadn’t planned on whiling away the morning hours reading, but I’d needed a break from writing, and Casien had been asking me about the book for days now. We’d found two copies in the palace library, and he’d already finished his. I must have seemed an unbearably slow reader in comparison.

“Yes,” I said, feeling the smile coming to my own face, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

He laughed, the sight always a beautiful one for me, for it made his chest and shoulders shake beneath his fine, red breast coat.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the ground beside me, and when I nodded, he sat down. He folded his legs before him with some effort, and I couldn’t help reflecting on our differences: he was older, and a veteran, and I’m sure his body reminded him of that fact from time to time. I couldn’t help but wonder how he could possibly express such interest in someone who was so vastly inexperienced with the world—but I had at least begun to accept it.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“A romance…” I flipped the book over, showing him the handsome cover, the stylized princes back-to-back, holding hands. “Casien found it for me. He keeps asking me if I’ve finished it…”

“Is it not interesting?”

“It is. But…”

I couldn’t think how to explain my habitual indifference to reading. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy a good story. I suppose it was just hard to force myself to focus so intensely on another person’s narrative. I constantly found my thoughts drifting, and sometimes I had to read an entire page over again, just to remember where I was.

“…But you think you could tell it better,” said my lover, and I looked at him, blinking.

“No,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm—probably because there was some truth to his words. “No, I just…”

He leaned in and kissed me, startling me further, swallowing the words I couldn’t quite get out. His fingers were in my hair, palm cupping my neck, and when we separated, his expression was a mixture of warm amusement and barely sated desire.

“You interrupted me,” I said, frowning, though I’m sure I did a poor job of feigning indignation.

“I suppose I ought to apologize,” he said, his thumb now softly stroking my jaw.

“Yes,” I said, my eyes dropping down to his lips again. “You should…”

At least I was ready this time when he kissed me. I gave in to my desire for him without a moment’s hesitation, leaning into his embrace. I no longer despaired over my lack of experience when we were together, for all I had to do was relax against him and allow him to ravish me with his mouth.

And so he did. He didn’t attempt to slip his hand under my clothing the way he had the other day, but his hand gripped my thigh now, his palm moving gradually upwards before slipping over and around my hip and squeezing—I don’t think I can be blamed for moaning the first time my lover put his hand on my ass, and I’m sure it only encouraged him to continue. The sounds I made when we kissed always embarrassed me, but I couldn’t seem to help myself around him. And I was hardly passive myself. My hands seem to move on their own volition, sliding over his coat and tunic, tugging at buttons and strings, slipping past his collar to feel his warm, smooth skin.

Finally, he ended the kiss, resting his forehead against my own now, both of us breathing heavily. His hand was on my cheek again, caressing me, thumb softly stroking my skin.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, still clearly trying to catch his breath. “I shouldn’t, not out here…”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t mind so much—my life had so changed over the last two or three months, for I found myself able to tolerate things that would have had me once nearly catatonic with fear and anxiety. At the moment, I didn’t care who might have seen us or what they might think of either of us. The only reason I might wish for privacy was so that we _wouldn’t_ have to stop—though I confess that thought in particular was probably spurred on by the heat of the moment. I was still unsure about what I wanted—and when.

His expression as he gazed at me now was one of helpless devotion—as if he couldn’t prevent himself from coming here and being with me, even when he knew he shouldn’t. And I knew that this was true, for he was so terribly busy now, with the moot drawing to a close.

“I’m… afraid I have somewhere I must be,” he continued, confirming my suspicions. “I saw you here, and only meant to stop and say ‘hello’.” He gave a soft snort, as though amused by his own failing. “I should have known better.”

“…Yes,” I said, smiling and gently stroking the back of my fingers over his bearded jaw. “You should have.”

He laughed—he liked it when I teased him; he’d told me as much. But then he sighed, gazed at me a moment, then leaned in to kiss me one last time.

“Perhaps I can see you again, just before dinner. But I’m afraid I can’t make any promises.”

I smiled and said nothing, only watched as he finally stood up, absently brushing the grass and dirt from his trousers.

“Well,” he said, smiling back at me. “Enjoy your book.”

He turned to go, but I realized, suddenly—

“Wait!” I said, getting hastily to my own feet. When he turned back to face me, his expression curious (though decidedly pleased)—I think I surprised him when I moved to adjust the collar and fit of his tunic under his coat. It was my fault, after all, for I couldn’t seem to keep my hands to myself when we kissed, and he would surely be teased—or worse, criticized—if he appeared in public so obviously disheveled.

_There_ , I thought, smoothing the lacings of his tunic down and running my fingers over the collar of his coat so that it sat properly on his shoulders again. When I lifted my eyes to meet his, they seemed to be shining, and there was a flush that now sat across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you,” he said, and then his blush became more visible, and he averted his gaze, smiling. “And now…” He made a show of clearing his throat. “If you would kindly step away, for I seem incapable of doing so myself…”

I laughed and took a step back, chastely putting my hands behind me. He pressed his lips together, his eyes finally meeting mine again. Then he turned away from me once again—and this time, I let him go.

I watched him as he made his way back down the path and towards the palace. He looked back once or twice, of course, and waved, and I waved back. Eventually, I sat back down. I picked my book up again and opened it, trying to remember where I’d last left off. But if I’d found it difficult to concentrate before, it was now impossible.

After a moment, I set the book down again. I shifted, lying down on my back so I could peer up at the sky through the leaves of the beech tree, my hands resting on my stomach. Gradually, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, and as a nap seemed just the thing at present, for it would allow me to replay our interactions together over and over again in my mind—I eventually succumbed.


	3. Breathe

There were signs early on that the new batch of tea sachets had not been properly mixed.

First, I woke up way too early.

I thought I must have had a nightmare, for one minute I was awake, and the next my eyes were staring wide open at the ceiling. My heart was racing, but that in and of itself wasn’t all that unusual. What was different was the breathless feeling in my chest, and the dizziness I felt when I tried to sit up.

I had a headache, but put it down to not sleeping well.

I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was alone that morning, for Falk had ridden down to Dragon Bridge earlier in the week and would be returning, hopefully, sometime that day. I tried to eat my breakfast, but my appetite was gone. That, too, I thought was on account of my restless night.

But then I tried to go about my day on an empty stomach. I was not very successful.

I found my thoughts turning again and again to my lover. Why was he not yet returned? If he had been delayed, would he not have sent a letter? My mothers, too, were due to arrive any day now. I began to find myself caught up in a loop, imagining terrible things happening to their ship, that they would die and I would never know what had happened.

Soren found me sitting on a bench in the hallway. He had to say my name three times before I realized he was there. He made me eat something.

I wasn’t given to paranoia or obsessive thoughts. It didn’t occur to me to speak to the healer. It was sleep I needed; I was sure of it. After lunch, I tried to lie down, but still sleep wouldn’t come. And still my heart raced.

I put myself “to pasture” as I liked to call it (which always amused Falk and Soren to no end)—I went up to the rooftop garden to try and make myself relax. But I couldn’t play, and I certainly couldn’t write. I found myself standing near one of the openings in the wall, gazing down at the sea and the city below. Where was he? When would he come?

He arrived just before dinner. He wasted little time in coming to see me, for I watched his retinue ride up to the palace, and not five minutes later he was up on the rooftop, striding towards me.

“Where have you been?!” I asked, and I don’t doubt that the sharpness of my voice startled him.

“One of the horses foundered,” he explained, taking my hands in his. “We were forced to stop at one of the outlying villages.”

“I thought something had happened!” I said, and I could feel my whole body shaking.

Suddenly, I was dizzy, and I felt his hands move to my shoulders, steadying me, but that didn’t seem to work. My heart was beating so fast—I closed my eyes, tried to swallow—I couldn’t, for there was no air in my lungs.

“Laurie!” he said.

I was already half-fainting when he swept me up into his arms. Later, I would learn that my lips had turned blue, and this had frightened him more than any foe he’d ever faced in battle—or so he tried to claim. (Though I didn’t doubt his bravery as a soldier. He, unlike me, had the steadiest of hearts.)

He carried me to the healer. I remember very little of it, only that my head hurt, and I was so dreadfully tired, and I wished I might cry for my eyes were very dry, but I never had been one for tears. It was much later when I seemed to become aware of my surroundings again—on the couch in the healer’s office. I was half-reclined against him, his broad chest behind my back, one hand anxiously stroking up and down my arm.

“…What happened?” I asked, and the words sounded strangely slurred as they left my lips.

“You were… unwell,” he said.

I could hear the tremor in his voice. I took that to mean it had been rather a close thing.

“I don’t understand,” I said, but I wasn’t sure how to articulate what I meant, for my head was now very woozy indeed.

“Errin says there was something in the tea,” he explained. “It seems you reacted very poorly to it, and with your condition…”

If I’d had the strength, I would have turned in his arms, cradled his face in my hands, and reassured him that I was going to be just fine. But I didn’t. Instead I only sighed, and shifted ever so slightly, so that I could lay my cheek on his shoulder and nuzzle my face against his neck.

“Will I get better?” I managed to ask.

“Yes, it was only the tea, she says. It was badly mixed. She is going to have a severe word with the supplier.”

I was quiet for some time, letting myself relax against him, enjoying the solid reassurance of his presence. He seemed to eventually relax as well, turning his head and resting his cheek against my temple. He kissed me there, and I smiled.

“I’m very tired,” I admitted, for I realized I’d closed my eyes and couldn’t seem to open them again.

“She gave you a sedative, darling. You will sleep for some time, perhaps through the night. Shall I bring you back upstairs?”

But I didn’t answer. I was already dreaming of our bed.

I was told he stayed with me for some time, and that he was ‘all but useless’ for the rest of the day, at least according to Soren. But Soren always did like to exaggerate.


End file.
